#And I really don’t want to but shes not giving me a choice

[waitimcomingtoo]

Built A Fire Just To Keep Me Warm

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers

Synopsis: you and Peter are in the same friend group but never got along. That doesn’t keep him from making sure you never get cold

Masterlist

“Guys, why is it so damn cold in here?” You groaned and rubbed your arms up and down. The thought of sitting in your lecture class for the next hour with your professor with the dullest voice imaginable somehow made you even colder.

“I told you to layer up.” MJ shrugged. “But you never want to listen during layer talk. You know this guy always cracks the AC.”

“I always listen during layer talk.” Ned mumbled and threw his scarf over his shoulder.

You looked at your professor in the front of the room and then up at the vent above you.

“Why though? It’s the middle of December. My arm hairs should not be standing up.” You said and held your arm up for MJ to see.

“Maybe you should wear a jacket.” Peter interjected, making you all look at him.

“What was that?” You asked him. Ned signaled for him to stop talking but Peter had a point to make.

“I was just saying. You know this professor always has the AC on. But you always come to class in thin shirts and then complain that you’re cold.” Peter said. You sat up in your chair so you could fully face Peter and narrowed your eyes at him.

“So?”

“So,” he mimicked your tone, “You know its going to be cold in here. But you still never wear a jacket. Maybe you should put one on next time so you won’t have this problem.”

“And maybe you should mind your business. I wasn’t even talking to you.” You grumbled and slumped down in your chair. Peter watched you rubbing your arms to keep warm and rolled his eyes a little.

“You were talking to the group.” Peter pointed out. “I’m in the group. So it was my business.”

“No, I was talking to MJ.” You stated as your annoyance for him grew.

“You said “guys, why is it so damn cold in here?”. That implies you were asking all of us.” Peter corrected. Ned and MJ exchanged a look as you glared at Peter.

“Okay, but I didn’t say ‘Peter, I’m really cold. Please give me your professional opinion on how to prevent that’. I was just making an observation.”

“But that’s not really an observation though, is it?” Peter asked. “It’s a declarative statement. We were in Linguistics together. I’m surprised you don’t remember that.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “Why do you have to be such a know it all?”

“I don’t know. Why do you insist on wearing the flimsiest shirts to class and then complaining that you’re cold?” Peter retorted.

“There’s about to be an active threat in this classroom.” You mumbled under your breath.

“What do you mean?” Ned asked you.

“I mean I’m about to beat Peter up.” You told him.

“Knock it off you two.” MJ warned. “Can you guys go one day without going at each other?”

“Tell Peter that. He started it.” You reminded her.

“I don’t care. I don’t want any bickering at my party tonight.” She said. “It can’t be like Friendsgiving. Because that was giving enemies instead of friends.”

“If you don’t want any fighting then you’ll have to uninvite Peter.” You told her.

“I can’t. He’s the only one with an ID. We need him for the alcohol.” MJ replied.

“I’m right here.” Peter pointed out

“Unfortunately.” You mumbled.

“Speaking of alcohol, I can’t go with him to get it.” Ned cut in. “My Lola has a sixth sense for this kind of thing. If I even look at a bottle of alcohol, she’ll know about it and strike me dead.”

“Then you’re going to have to go with him. I’ll be busy setting up.” MJ told you.

“What?” You whined. “I don’t want to go with him. Why can’t he go alone?”

“Again, right here.” Peter stated and waved his hand.

“Because of the Buddy System.” MJ answered. “Remember when we sent Ned alone to the bodega to get Sun Chips? He almost got kidnapped.”

“The only reason the man didn’t take me was because he thought my choice of chips was disgusting.” Ned whispered.

“That’s valid.” You shrugged. “I wouldn’t kidnap you either.”

“Can you guys just go together this once? For me? For little mixed drink loving old me?” MJ pleaded and held your hand to her heart.

“Fine.” You sighed and rubbed your hands up and down your arms. Peter watched you doing this and then looked up at the vent above you.

“Don’t act so excited about it.” Peter mumbled to you.

“I’m not.” You scoffed and gave him a look.

“I was being sarcastic.”

“So was I.” You said as Peter got up out of his seat.

“Where are you going?” You asked him.

“To pee. Is that allowed?” He sassed you.

“Go piss girl.” Ned called after Peter as he walked down the steps of the lecture room, earning many stares from other classmates.

“Ned, no.” MJ whispered. “That’s not relevant anymore.”

“Oh shit. Um, mama a hawk tuah diva behind you?” Ned asked to try and fix his mistake.

“Just stop while you’re ahead.” MJ replied with a pat on his knee. She then turned to you with a devious smile.

“Peter totally likes you.” She whispered.

“What?” You laughed. “No he doesn’t. We’re barely even friends. I only tolerate him since he’s friends with Ned. And I mess with Ned heavy.”

Just then, Peter came back from the bathroom and stopped at the professors desk. You watched them curiously but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. When Peter walked away from the desk, your professor went over to the thermostat and turned the AC off. You felt the vent above you stop spewing cold air just as Peter came back to where you were all sitting. He didn’t look at you but his cheeks were pink as he sat down. MJ and Ned hadn’t noticed what happened so you leaned over to him to whisper.

“Why did you do that?” You asked him.

“You said you were cold.” He shrugged, still without looking at you.

“So? Why do you care if I’m cold?”

“I don’t. I was cold too. Not everything’s about you.” He said quickly. You decided to drop it but you found the interaction strange.

Later that day, you and Peter kept a distance between you as you walked towards the nearest corner store. You had your arms folded to keep your hands warm and Peter was fighting the urge to comment on your lack of preparation for the cold.

“Do you have the list?” You asked Peter as you neared the store.

“I do. But it just says “alcohol” so we’re going in blind.” He answered. You couldn’t help but laugh at MJ’s lack of instructions as you rubbed your arms up and down. Peter noticed this and was about to offer his jacket when you reached the store. Instead, he held the door for you and you smiled in surprise.

“Thanks. Let’s just get what we need and get out of here.” You said, feeling awkward now as you walked past him into the store. You were never really alone with him so you weren’t expecting him to be so civil. You split up and went down each isle to collect a few token party items. As you browsed, you kept feeling Peter’s eyes on you but you never looked up to check.

“They don’t have MJ’s favorite vodka here. She’s gonna kill us if we don’t come back with it.” Peter came up to you to tell you.

“Damn. We could try the store two blocks down. They usually have it.”

“All right. Let’s go.” Peter said and nodded towards the door. As you started to walk to the next store, the frigid New York air hit you and sent a chill through your entire body. You shuddered and blew hot air on your hands before holding your arms to keep warm.

“Are you cold?” Peter asked you.

“Of course I’m cold. It’s brick out here.”

“How come you never wear a jacket if you’re always cold?” He asked. He didn’t sound accusatory, just curious.

“Because I thought we were just running to the store by the dorms. I didn’t think I’d need one.” You replied. Peter fought every instinct in his body that told him to stay silent and unzipped his jacket.

“Take mine.” He offered and held it out to you.

“What?” You laughed in surprise. “No way.”

“Come on. Don’t be stubborn. You’re freezing. Just take it.”

“I’m not taking your jacket. I’m fine.” You insisted and continued to shiver.

“Just take the damn jacket.” He sighed and put it over your shoulders. You wanted to be stubborn, but you more so wanted to be warm. You gave him a look and slipped your arms into his jacket. You instantly felt better and smiled a little at your new protection from the cold. Peters jacket hung a little big on you but kept you perfectly warm.

“Thank you.” You said timidly. “But aren’t you cold?”

“Nah.” He waved his hand. “I run hot.”

You had reached the next store by that point and he opened the door for you once again. You flashed him a quick smile and went inside to get the drinks for MJ. You found it quickly and joined him at the cash register.

You hugged Peter’s jacket tightly around you as you walked back to the dorms together. He felt better now that he wasn’t watching you freeze to death and you felt better now that you were safe from the bitter wind. You dropped Peter off at the boys dorm before going back to yours and MJs room. As soon as you walked in, you were hit with a familiar scent that made you suspicious. You looked around the dorm until you found what you were looking for.

“Oh, hey. You’re back.” MJ smiled when she found you.

“What’s this?” You asked and pointed to the mistletoe taped to the ceiling of the kitchen.

“Nothing.” MJ said quickly. “It’s basil.”

“You have basil taped to the ceiling?” You asked skeptically.

“I’m Italian.” She shrugged.

“No you’re not. I’ve eaten pasta you’ve made. It was like chewing a pen cap. There’s no Italian in that blood.”

“You got me. It’s mistletoe.” She admitted. “Arranged beautifully due to my floral arrangement class, may I add. I hung it incase you wanted to kiss any boys tonight.”

“I knew it. You’re still trying to set me up with Peter. It’s never going to work so give up now. Now matter how much basil you hang up.” You said and snatched the mistletoe down.

“You fight it but my lesbian instincts tell me that you guys are meant to be.” MJ said and held her hands up in defense. “And you better hang that back up because that was my only bushel of mistletoe.”

“The same lesbian instincts that made us get on that bus to Long Island? I can never un-go to Long Island, MJ. You did that to us.”

“It was dark. All the buses looked the same.” She defended herself. “But trust. My instincts are right about this one.”

“They’re not.” You stated. “I don’t like Peter like that. I don’t even like him as a friend.”

“Okay. Sure. I believe you. Nice jacket, by the way.” She smirked before walking away. You looked down and remembered you were wearing Peter’s beat up winter jacket. You quickly followed her into the kitchen area to continue the conversation.

“That doesn’t mean anything. I was cold.”

“Yeah. I bet he was too. Especially after he gave you his jacket.” She said smugly.

“He said he runs hot.” You insisted.

“Yeah. Hot for you. Ayo.” She grinned and held up her hand for a high five.

“That’s not getting a high five.” You said flatly. “There better not be any more surprises. Don’t try to intervene tonight, okay? Peter and I would never work.”

“I thought you said you and Peter would never happen. Now you’re saying it just wouldn’t work? Sounds like someone’s having a change of heart.” MJ clicked her tongue as she finished setting up for the party.

You rolled your eyes at her and didn’t respond as you helped her put out snacks. While setting a bowl of chips out on the table, you caught a whiff of Peter’s cologne coming off the jacket. You instinctively smiled at the scent before you caught yourself. You had never thought about it before, but now that MJ put the idea in your head, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was a deeper reason that you and Peter never got along.

An hour later, the party was in full swing. You made your rounds and greeted people as you filled their cups up some more. You would never admit it, but you were a little disappointed to not see Peter in the crowd yet. MJ noticed you searching the room every so often and took a place by your side.

“Looking for Peter?” She asked with a smug expression.

“What? No. Like I care if that doink shows up. I’m looking for Ned. He’s supposed to bring the…. Sun Chips.” You lied to cover up what you were really doing.

“Right, right. Of course. And how do you feel about Sun Chips?” She asked sarcastically.

“I need some air.” You said quickly and walked away from her. To get away from the crowd, you went out to your room and crawled out the window to sit on the roof. You hugged Peter’s jacket tightly around yourself and stared up at the night sky. The sound of the party coming through your open window sounded a million miles away. You drew your knees to your chest and rested your chin on them as the cold wind sent a chill through your body.

“Hey.” You heard behind you, making you turn around. You saw Peter coming through your bedroom window and come join you on the roof. You got a new feeling in your chest as he sat beside you.

“Hey.” You smiled softly at him. He returned the smile before an awkward silence settled between the two of you. You didn’t know how to interact after he was nice to you on your trip to the store.

“Thanks for walking through my bedroom with your dirty converse on.” You said to break the silence.

“Like my shoes were the dirtiest thing in that room. I’m pretty sure I saw a rat eating your homework.” He mumbled. You stared at each other as you both tried to read the situation. You were bickering like usual, but there was a playful sense to it this time.

“That’s just our third roommate, dummy.” You replied, adding to the teasing nature of the conversation.

“Ah, I see.” Peter chuckled before looking down shyly. The awkward silence returned but you found yourself hoping he didn’t leave.

“How come you’re out here? You’re not having fun?” He asked after a beat.

“It got a little overwhelming in there. I needed some alone time.”

“Oh, I could go.” He offered and went to stand up.

“You could stay.” You said and stopped him from getting up by placing your hand over his. You watched Peter turn bright red so you quickly withdrew your hand. It was quiet again and you both looked anywhere but each other.

“How come you’re not in there with Ned and all them? Didn’t you just get here?” You asked to break the silence.

“Oh, yeah. Ned and I just got here. But I walked by your room and I saw the window open. I was going to close it until I saw you out here.” He answered a little too quickly.

“Why were you by my room? The party is in the kitchen area.” You wondered. Peter was flushed again and a smile tugged at your lips.

“Were you looking for me?” You asked in a quiet voice. Before Peter could deny the allegations, a gust of wind hit the two of you. You shivered and rubbed your hands together to stay warm.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked you.

“You know what’s wrong.” You said with a slight roll of your eyes. Instead of pointing out that you were purposefully outside on the chilly roof, Peter took both your hands in his. You watched him curiously as he rubbed his hands up and down yours to generate heat. It occurred to you both at the exact same time that this was the first time you’d ever touched. You locked eyes with him and thought he’d let go, but he instead leaned down to blow some hot air on your hands to warm you up.

“Thanks.” You said softly. “That feels better.”

“You’re welcome.” He said in just as timid of a voice. The awkwardness returned and you turned away from each other to avoid it.

“I’m sorry about before. In class, I mean. It was none of my business. You can wear whatever you want.” Peter said after a minute.

“It’s fine.” You waved your hand. “Maybe you kinda sorta possibly had a point. I knew it would be cold. I should’ve worn a jacket. Besides, we always go at each other like that. Don’t be sorry.”

“You’re right. We do always fight.” He agreed. “Do you ever wonder why?”

“Oh, um. I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I assumed that’s just how we are.”

“Yeah, it is.” He nodded. “But how did it start? Did we just meet one day and decide we hated each other? I was trying to think about it the other day but I couldn’t remember.”

“Well, I remember MJ telling me she made a friend in her floral arrangement class. Which I told her not to take, by the way.”

“I told Ned the same thing.” Peter sighed. “I said it was a waste of time and credits. He didn’t listen. But he did make me a beautiful bouquet for my birthday.”

“MJ failed so she got me a gift card to Staples.” You replied, making Peter laugh.

“Why Staples?”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure she found it on the ground.”

“Did you ever use it?” He asked.

“I did. And guess what I got.”

“Staples?”

“Yep.” You nodded, making him laugh again. You never realized it before, but Peter had the kind of laugh that made you want to say the most random things just to hear it again. His eyes crinkled when he laughed or smiled, another thing you hadn’t noticed before.

“I remember Ned introducing me to MJ, and then MJ introduced me to you. But I don’t remember how our dynamic started and why we fight all the time.”

“Hm.” You hummed. “It’s funny.”

“What is?” He wondered.

“The one time we’re alone together is the one time we’re not fighting.” You pointed out.

“You’re right.” He smiled shyly. “Funny.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward this time. You felt like you were talking to a completely different person than who Peter usually was. This version of Peter didn’t get under your skin or make you roll your eyes. This version was sweet and warmed you up from the cold.

“You kept my jacket.” Peter pointed out, making you flush in embarrassment.

“Oh, you can have it back.” You said and went to take it off.

“No, no. It’s okay. I want you to keep it.” He insisted and pulled it back around you. For extra measure, he zipped it up to your chin before patted both your arms. You smiled at the action and tilted your head down so the jacket would cover your chin.

“It looks better on you anyway.” He added without looking at you. You picked your head up and looked at him but he was busy fussing with the her of his shirt.

“Thanks. It’s really warm.” You said in a soft voice.

“Good. You need it. You’re always cold. And never prepared.”

“We can’t all be hot.” You replied. “Run hot, I mean.”

“Did you just call me hot?” Peter asked with a devious smile.

“Shut up.” You groaned. “You know what I meant.”

“I wish I had your problems. My hands are always sweating because I’m always so hot.” Peter said as he looked at his hands.

“Gross.” You grimaced. “Keep that to yourself.”

Peter looked sad as he didn’t realize you were joking. You found yourself feeling bad that you hurt his feelings despite all the times you intentionally tried to hurt them.

“I was just kidding. Let me feel.” You quickly assured him and took his hand. You ran your fingertips along his palm to see what he was talking about while Peter stayed perfectly still. You let out a soft laugh which sent chills up Peter’s spine.

“What do you think?” He asked in a quiet voice.

“It’s like touching a Swedish fish that’s been in a toddlers hand for too long.” You replied, making him laugh as well.

“Thank you. That was a really lovely description.”

“Seriously, how do you walk around with these things? Do girls ever complain when you hold hands?” You wondered as you slipped your hand into his. He instinctively rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand as the comfortable silence returned. You stayed like that for a moment, holding each others hand on the cold rooftop. The only warmth Peter had was from your hand so he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

“Aha! Holding hands!” MJ suddenly exclaimed from behind you. And was standing in your room and pouting at you through your open window. You turned around and quickly dropped Peter’s hand.

“What? No we’re not.” You scoffed and stood up. Peter felt an overwhelming wave of disappointment wash over him as you left the roof to follow MJ. It hurt him that you were so quick to drop his hand and deny what was happening, and even quicker to leave him.

“Lesbian instincts.” MJ said as she tapped the side of her head.

“Shut up. We weren’t holding hands.” You insisted as you led her back towards the party.

“I may be a little drunk right now but I know what I saw.” She stated. “And you can’t deny something I saw with my own two eyes.”

“What did she see?” Ned asked as he came to your side.

“Nothing.” You said quickly. “She didn’t see anything.”

“Nothing except her and Peter practically having full on intercourse out on the roof.” MJ replied, making Ned gasp.

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “We were not doing that. We were just holding hands.”

“So you admit it!” She clapped her hands at the confession and nearly fell over.

“Girl, how are you so drunk already?” You asked her. “The party only started an hour ago.”

“Not the point.” MJ held up a hand. “Why were you and Peter holding hands? I thought you hated each other?”

“Peter doesn’t hate her.” Ned laughed like it was ridiculous. You were about to question what made him sound so sure when you realized you had left Peter out on the roof. You left MJ and Ned behind and quickly ran back to your room. The window was shut but Peter was nowhere to be found. Guilt building up in your stomach now, you went back out to the party and searched the crowd for him. When you didn’t see him anywhere, you went back to the kitchen to find Ned.

“Did Peter come in here? I can’t find him.” You asked him.

“You just missed him.” Ned answered. “He said he wasn’t feeling well so we wasn’t going to head back to our dorm.”

“He left?” You asked sadly. You looked at your front door before looking at MJ for help. She tapped the side of your head again and you knew what you had to do.

You ran out to the hall but didn’t see Peter anywhere. The hum of the elevator gave you an idea where he might be. You got to the elevator just in time to see the doors closing. Without thinking, you wedged yourself in between them to get them to open back up. They bounced off either side of your body but opened up enough for you to get inside. Peter caught you as you stumbled in and helped you stand up straight.

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” He asked as you held your aching body.

“I think I just went down a cup size.” You wheezed out.

“Why didn’t you just tell me to hold the door?” Peter asked through a laugh.

“There was no time.” You waved your hand. “I had to talk to you. You’re leaving?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not much for parties.” He lied.

“Neither am I.” You told him as you stared into his eyes. He stared back and you could see a sadness in them that you knew was probably your fault.

“Before you go, I just wanted to apologize for before. I shouldn’t have run out on you like that.”

“It’s okay.” He shrugged. “We did look pretty incriminating.”

“We did.” You agreed. “And MJ was thrilled to see it. She has this dumb idea that we only pretend to hate each other to cover up the fact that we like each other.”

“She thinks that? Wow. That’s quite a theory.” Peter said as a blush painted his face a warm pink.

“Right? I don’t know where she gets it.” You shook your head and slid down the wall of the elevator. Peter decided to see the situation out and sat down beside you. Neither of you had pressed any buttons so the elevator stayed in place.

“Ned has a similar theory, actually.” Peter told you. “He thinks I’m totally in love with you and I don’t know how to express it outside of teasing you or making sure you’re warm.”

The silence that followed Peter’s statement was almost more incriminating than the hand holding. In your head, you replayed every time he had done something to keep you warm. Just the week before, Peter had wordlessly dropped a blanket beside you during a movie night at his dorm. Another time, he insisted you drank the tea he brought to class because he decided he didn’t like it anymore but didn’t want it to go to waste.

“Also quite a theory.” You said to break the silence. “But wait, if you run hot, how come your dorm has been perfectly toasty everytime MJ and I came over this winter?”

“It’s not usually like that.” He admitted. “But I take out the space heater when you and MJ come over because I know you get cold easily.”

“Oh. Well thank you.”

“For the teasing?”

“For keeping me warm.” You corrected. Peter flushed again and looked down at his lap.

“It’s all right. Winter will be over in a month. You won’t need me to keep you warm anymore. Then we’ll go back to being enemies.” He said without looking at you. You could hear a sadness in his voice and moved a little closer to him.

“You’re not my enemy. I just never really liked you.” You admitted.

“Yeah. I had a feeling. But how come?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

“Well, because I got the feeling that you never really like me either.” You shrugged. “Once our friend groups merged, you and I were just kinda there. We never really gelled like Ned and I or you and MJ.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” He agreed. “The only times we would talk to each other is when we were fighting or something. That’s the only reason I kept teasing you.”

“Because you wanted to talk to me?” You smiled teasingly. Peter didn’t smile back and just stared into your eyes.

“I didn’t know how to talk to you.” He said quietly. “I never wanted us to fight. But if we didn’t, then we would never talk. And I really, really wanted to talk to you.”

The way you had felt about Peter just that morning had completely changed for the better. You were now hanging on his every word and desperate to hear what he had to say next. You turned a little to face him better and tilted your head to the side.

“What did you want to say?” You asked him. Peter’s eyes darted around your face and eventually landed on your lips.

“That I think you’re really cool. And really pretty. And really smart. Even though you never wear a-“

“Don’t say it.” You cut him off by leaning in the rest of the way and kissing him. Peter turned his body so that he could slip a hand in your hair to kiss you back. He took the chill right out of your bones as he kissed you as if he’d been waiting his entire like to do so. You pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt and kissed him until you ran out of breath. He had a dreamy smile on his face when you pulled away. You smiled shyly and sat back down on the elevator floor. Peter started to sniff the air suddenly and looked around.

“Do you smell basil?” He asked. Your smile dropped and you looked up to find the source of the smell. Sure enough, taped to the ceiling of the elevator was a makeshift mistletoe MJ had crafted out of basil and ribbon.

“Freaking lesbian instincts.” You muttered and stood up to snatch the basil down.

Tag list 🏷️ 🧥

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @itsemohours

@tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@hallecarey1

@ciarahollands

@nellabella @boogywoogywoogy

[writingroom21]

hey,can i request stepbrother rafe catch reader using vibrator

“Mhmm”

Your little moans and the buzzing from the vibrator pressed to your clit fill the room. The house was empty and you took the opportunity to have some alone time. The light purple vibrator keeps stimulating you as your imagination goes wild. A tall shadow can be seen if you focus enough. Their hands touching your skin, their voice encouraging you to go further. A loud moan slips from your lips as you imagine that someone is there helping you get off.

“Oh shit.” The voice and the sound of something falling startles you causing the vibrator to go flying from your hand. When glancing at the door you see Rafe standing there with wide eyes looking at you. Your eyes rack his body noting he probably just came back from the gym. Bending down he reaches for his phone that fell from his hands as you try to cover yourself up. The vibrator is still buzzing on the floor next to your bed. His eyes watch it before meeting you. Both of you stand there not really knowing what to say. “Rafe.” You try to think of something but what can you say?

Hey, sorry that you just walked in on me getting myself off. No that’s not it because you aren’t sorry. He’s the one who should have knocked and it's natural what you are doing. Or maybe let’s never bring this up again and don’t tell my mom or your dad. Yeah, that seems like a better option. You go to open your mouth again but he stops you. “Show me.” With quick strides he’s by your bedside picking up the vibrator and placing it in your hand. Slowly he guides it back to your clit but doesn’t press into it. “Rafe, what are you doing?” His eyes look dark and his chest is heaving.

“I want you to show me how you make yourself cum.” Without second guessing you press the silicon material to your clit. The vibrations cause a moan to leave your lips. Which seemed to be like the best choice since Rafe couldn’t hold back his groans. What would your mom say if she caught you too right now? Oh god what would Ward say? You may not like him but he’s still married to your mom. This is crossing way too many lines and if they found out it could be bad. “That’s it baby. Increase the speed and lightly circle your clit.” You clinch around nothing as you follow his instructions.

Normally you don’t go past the third level but you are starting to wish you did. This was a whole new sense of pleasure. You can hear your moans and the sound of Rafe’s heavy breathing over the soft buzzing. He’s looking at you like it’s killing him not to touch you. You clench again around nothing as you whine out his name. “You’ll be okay. Pinch your nipple, hard.” He demanded as he squeezed his dick through his shorts. Following his demand your left hand finds your nipple, pinching it hard and twisting a bit. Rafe’s voice is faintly heard as you focus on the impending orgasim clawing its way out of you.

Suddenly his hand is placed on your inner thigh. “There you go. Fuck you look so pretty when you listen.” One of his fingers brushes your slit and that was enough to send you into orbit. Your orgasim comes crashing down on you in waves. It eases for a moment to come back at full force. He places a hand over your to keep the vibrator to your clit. Rafe watches in awe as he sees you repeatedly clench around nothing. In the next moment he was flicking the vibrator off and finding himself between your legs. He gives you a teasing like testing how you taste on his tongue. “What are you doing?”

“Worked up a big appetite at the gym. Why don’t you be a good girl and help your step brother out.”

Taglist : @rafedaddy01 @rrafeswhore @10ava01 @selfcontollover07

Let me know if you want to be added

[starryhyuck]

craving you. (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

pairing: husband!jaehyun x afab!reader

words: 5.1k+

summary: are pregnancy cravings supposed to make you crazy for your husband’s dick?

genre: smut

warnings: jaehyun and reader are children of politicians, mentions of conservative views, pregnancy, public sex, bigdick!jaehyun, fingering, pussy eating, creampies

this fic is exclusive to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview

Once you’re on the road, he intertwines his hand with yours over the console. He raises the back of your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. “Missed you today,” he murmurs, squeezing your palm. “Dad’s been wanting to see you too. Said you should come by the office and hang out. He’d love your input on the new traffic law they’re trying to pass.”

You hum noncommittally, staring out the window with a longing expression. He swallows at your choice to remain non-verbal, worry filling the bottom of his gut.

“Pasta night tonight, hm? I already called ahead and they set aside our favorite table,” he continues, trying to draw a reaction out of you. You chew on your lower lip, but your eyes focus on the passing streetlights. The question leaves his lips before he can stop it. “Have I done something wrong, my love?”

Your head darts over to him for the first time, gaze filled with confusion. “Of course you haven’t.”

“You’ve just been so distant from me,” he sighs. “I’m wondering if you’re upset over something I did.”

“No, no, of course not,” you shake your head, squirming in your seat. “It’s just that- T-The baby- I’m just having a lot of emotions right now.”

“You can talk to me about them, you know? I’d love to understand how you’re feeling.”

A few moments pass in silence, and he peeks over to see you battling internally before you say, “It’s not really appropriate, Jae.”

His brow furrows. “Appropriate? I’m your husband, my love. You can tell me anything.”

The rest of the ride is speechless and when Jaehyun pulls up to the valet of the restaurant, he tells the worker to give you both a moment.

“I don’t want to go in there until you feel comfortable enough sitting across from me and looking me in the eye,” he says sternly, not allowing you to run away from confrontation this time. “If you’re mad at me, tell me now and we can put a pin in it to discuss later.”

“I-I’m not mad!” You exclaim, flustered by the various people standing outside and waiting for you. “Please, Jae. Let’s just enjoy our dinner.”

“I can’t enjoy it if I know my wife is upset.”

“I’m not upset,” you hiss, groaning and running your hands down your face. “It’s not appropriate for me to say! Especially here!”

“What is it? Morning sickness? Swelling? Using the bathroom too often?”

“I want to have sex with you! Does that make you happy? I think about jumping your bones every five seconds and it’s driving me insane. I can’t even look you in the eye because all I’ll think about is riding you until I’m out of breath,” you confess, folding your arms across your chest and pouting like a child. “Now you know your wife is a degenerate who can’t think straight.”

You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. Jaehyun doesn’t utter a single word, opening up the car door and signaling for the valet to take the keys. One of the workers helps you step out as Jaehyun walks over, outstretching his arm to you without sparing you a single glance.

You walk into the restaurant with your hand wrapped around his forearm tightly. When the hostess greets you, Jaehyun says, “We’ll take the private room in the back if it’s available. I’ll pay extra if needed.”

The hostess blinks in surprise. “Oh, I apologize, Mr. Jeong. I thought you called in and requested the table by the window.”

He flashes her his signature smile. “I did, but my wife is feeling under the weather and we’d prefer if we had more privacy. I’m sure the restaurant can make a few accommodations.”

“Of course, Mr. Jeong.”

She leads you to the back, opening a sliding door that reveals a dimly lit room for two. Jaehyun nods and takes the menu from her hands. “I’ll call for service when we’re ready,” he instructs. “I ask that those doors remain closed until I say otherwise.”

“No problem, Mr. Jeong. I’ll inform the rest of the staff.”

When she exits, Jaehyun finds his way to his seat. He watches your confused expression, knowing he usually pulls out your seat for you like a proper gentleman. Just as you’re about to take your own spot at the table, he stops you with a gruff “What do you think you’re doing?”

You glance between him and the chair, and on any other occasion, he would coo at how cute you are.

“Um, sitting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Your seat’s over here, my love,” he murmurs, patting his thigh. “Have you forgotten how to use your eyes?”

You blink twice. “Uh-”

“Come on. I can’t wait all day.”

want to read the rest? access the $5 tier on my patreon here!

[hotcuppacocoa]

Man Rise’s dungeon is the most brutal so far. I think she’s the least stable Investigation Team member…

Yosuke: “This town is really boring and I feel guilty over seeing the murders as something to do because my dearest friend and crush is dead and I wish I could’ve saved her and I feel like my boredom devalues my care for her”

Chie: “I wish I didn’t like having this sense of power in my life and getting it from my best friend, it makes me worry I’m a bad friend and taking advantage of her despite how much I love her”

Yukiko: “As much as I love my family I wish they didn’t push the family business onto me without giving me a choice, makes me feel trapped, maybe someone can help me? Or am I trapping myself by not communicating?”

Kanji: “People are alienating me because I’m a guy who likes sewing and are weaponizing homophobia against me… I don’t know if I’m gay or straight or what, I just want to be able to be me in peace without others seeing me as lesser”

Rise: “I can’t drop the mask for a moment I can’t drop the mask for a moment they’ll turn on me if I don’t I have to be nothing but a toy for their entertainment I can’t drop the mask I can’t drop the mask I can’t drop the mask”

Good grief… Yosuke’s #2 in instability. Man…

[lightlycareless]

Merry Christmas y'all!! I hope you had a wonderful time with your loved ones ❤️

I didn't get to enjoy this holiday that much because of... women issues. iykyk But still, I got to finish this and play some games so it wasn't all that bad :)

There's another piece that I also intend to upload soon, probably tomorrow lol but the bottom line is we getting two Christmas specials :> which I hope you enjoy!!

warnings: none. fluff. you and naoya are married and naomi already exists, however, it's not entirely centric on them. Mai and Maki's mom is the protagonist here :')

Happy reading!

“If you go through with that change, you’ll be over the budget.”

Junko doesn’t know why she even bothers warning you so when it always ends up the same way: you go over your pre-approved spending limit, the elders question you about it, Naoya covers for it—or more like demands them to back off and pays for the difference.

In fact, he seemed to encourage it too, given how he never reproached you about it and even admired your ill choices—certainly unbefitting of your responsibilities as the future Lady of the House.

More so since there’s a new motivator behind your actions this time around.

“But it’s going to look so pretty, right?”

If she already thought the enthusiasm you had for your first Christmas at the Zen’in estate was too much, preparing everything for your daughter’s first celebration was beyond her expectations.

“It’s Naomi’s first Christmas, surely you must understand why I need to make this extra special for her.”

No. she doesn’t. She didn’t even do it for her own daughters, did you really expect her to suddenly grow empathetic to your cause?

The best thing you could do for everyone was stop, at least then she wouldn’t have to deal with complaints about the bad job she’s supposedly doing by guiding you through your new responsibilities.

But you’d become stubborn, just like your husband, marking this as the newest bane of her existence for all eternity to come.

“Hurry, Naoya! We’re just waiting for you! I already have everything set up so let’s go!” you urged whilst holding Naomi with one arm, pulling Naoya onto the main garden with the other—and he laughs alongside you while doing so, after days of endless teases, how could he not be thrilled by your surprise too?

“Careful, my love. I’m not confident our dumpling enjoys being jolted like that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You lament, immediately glancing down at your precious baby —just short of a year old— dressed up in a cozy polar bear fleece onesie that made her look even cuter. Alongside her big, round, golden eyes that told you there was nothing to worry about, for she was equally excited to see what you had in store for her. “My adorable princess, are you ready for your first Christmas?”

The baby gurgles, giving the two the most adorable sound capable of curing all ailments in the world, if possible.

“It’s our first Christmas as a family too.” Naoya notes, and your heart flutters at the thought.

“It is.” You respond, looking up to him with pure adoration—unconditional love. As well as partial disbelief, like you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that one of your biggest dreams had come true.

A family.

Composed of a baby girl who couldn’t be any more perfect, a beautiful, sweet little thing that wholly compasses your love for Naoya.

And a husband, loyal, dedicated, protective—who wants nothing but your well-being, and of course, your love. Which he has more than enough to return.

You didn’t care for what Naoya had gotten you this year, not even dared to wonder, because the best gift you could’ve obtained was already in your arms.

“You’re making me cry, Naoya, that’s not fair!” You pout, he chuckles.

“Then don’t, just think about how happy Naomi is going to be when you reveal her surprise.”

Alongside the gathering crowd composed of Mai and Maki, whom you promptly invited the moment this idea crossed your mind, eagerly tugging at their mother’s sleeve as they wished to keep up with you.

“Come on, mom! We’re going to miss it!” Maki insisted. “I want to be there when it happens!”

“You two should be in bed by now!” Junko scolds, gently fighting back against their daughters, but ultimately failing against their unparalleled enthusiasm.

“We’ll go to bed as soon as we see it, we promise!” Mai quickly arranges. “Please, mom? I’ve never seen anything like this before!”

At her unwanted impotency, Junko naturally stretches to find a culprit behind their erratic behavior and make them responsible!

Or more like she wants to directly confront you for being their obvious prime instigator and demand you to stop filling their minds with senseless ideas, less you desired to suffer the consequences!

But of course, it all takes her back to the initial point. There is no use in her frustrations if by the end of the day she’ll just get the same result: you’ll promise to be more careful with your actions, ask the twins to be more obedient towards her… and let your enthusiasm get the best of you once more, completely disregarding the Zen’in’s inner workings.

So instead of wasting her time, she simply makes them promise to go to bed soon after you do whatever it is that you have planned and move on; arriving just a few seconds after you and taking their respective positions, the best seats as you’d put it.

And once ready yourself, you’d look over to your staff, signaling them to begin.

A wide smile on your face as the results of all your careful planning comes to life, bright colored lights decorating the garden, from the flowers to the trees, in all its festive glory—in such hypnotizing manner that those present could only gasp in awe at its beauty.

But if that wasn’t enough, you also made sure to pace everything correctly; a combination of dazzling entertainment that proved to be a complete success given the way your enthralled daughter bubbled whenever her favorite color appeared, or when encouraging her to do so.

“I think our little princess likes it.” Naoya declares, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“I knew she would.” You murmur proudly while resting your head over his shoulder. “And you? Do you like it?”

“I love it, just like everything you do.”

Junko looks away the moment two lean in for a kiss, just in time to avoid any further embarrassments—as if she wasn’t struggling enough with her unruly daughters and your senseless spending.

But even amongst all these inner conflicts, a part of Junko cannot keep her away from looking at your work. The one she previously disregarded as unnecessary, but now, before it’s intricacy… she can’t help but feel calm. Nostalgic even, though this sentiment wasn’t uncommon during these festivities.

Yet, to her it was. Almost intriguing that someone like her, that has never taken interest in commemorating such things in the past, less so after getting married, could feel such a way.

Though one quick glance at her daughters, the beaming, wide-eyed children that were equally enthralled as Naomi in the face of your celebration, would provide the answer. Because just like your child, they too were essentially celebrating their first Christmas together. As a family.

After brief consideration, perhaps finding it unnecessary to cut short this harmless moment, Junko decides to let her guard down and enjoy the rest of the evening. Soon captivated by the following fireworks, courtesy of the nearby village, which she was never aware could be seen from there.

Not that it mattered to ponder about such a possibility now, not when she allowed her mind to diverge instead into a universe where enjoyable moments like these were an everyday norm—and not an example of defiance.

ugh I needed to give them the spotlight :') idk why it just came to me; but omg hahaha I'm sorry if y'all were expecting something a bit lighthearted but I promise the other oneshot I'm working on is 🙈 just needed to get this one out of my system.

Now, without anything else to add, I hope you have happy holidays!! Thank you so much for your support 🥺❤️ really, I could not be here without you guys.

Take care and hope to see you soon!!!

[nameless-ken]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - Part Six

Word count: 9.2K

Warnings: angst, smut!! (18+), fluff too, all the emotions

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Masterlist

The rhythmic clinking of tools echoes in your quiet apartment as Bucky, Steve and Sam work on replacing the shattered window while you are at work. A crisp draft from the afternoon air slips through the gap, making Bucky shift uncomfortably. He stands nearby, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the street below for any signs of movement.

“You sure this place is secure now?” Sam questions, handing Steve a screwdriver. “Because that was one heck of an entry.”

Steve nods, securing the new pane in place. “We’re reinforcing it, but I think we need to figure out who did this, not just block it out.”

Bucky let out a low huff, his jaw tightening. “It’s not just a message. Someone out there knows too much—about me. About what happened.”

“And they made it personal,” Sam adds.

Steve brushes his hands on his jeans. “We’ll track them down, Buck. But we’ve got to start smart. What’s the connection? Why now?”

Bucky doesn’t answer immediately. For your and Elizabeth’s sake, he tries to push down the storm of emotions that threatens to overtake him. “They’re tied to what happened to me. The people who took me. Could be Hydra… or someone trying to replicate what they did to me.”

“Then we’ll find them,” Steve says firmly. “Together. Like we always have.”

Sam leans against the wall, arms crossed. “And we’re not just talking about going after them, man. You need to let us help you—really help. None of this lone wolf act.”

Bucky’s lips press into a thin line. He nods, but the weight in his chest didn’t lift.

Steve glances at Bucky, sensing his tension but choosing not to press further. Instead, he redirects his focus. "Sam, make sure we log the details of the break-in. We might’ve missed something the first time through."

Sam nods and pushes off the wall, grabbing his phone. "Already on it. I’ll run the details by my contacts too—see if there’s been any chatter about suspicious activity in the area."

As Sam steps into the hallway, Steve leans closer to Bucky, lowering his voice. "You don’t have to carry this alone, you know."

Bucky exhales sharply, his metal fingers flexing unconsciously. "I’m not carrying it alone. I’m just… trying to keep it together."

Steve places a hand on his shoulder, grounding him as they walk out of the guest room and to the living room. "We’ll figure this out, Buck. You’ve faced worse and come out stronger. And you’ve got more people backing you now than ever before."

Bucky gives a tight nod. "I just don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of me."

Before Steve can respond, the sound of the front door opening draws their attention. You step inside with Elizabeth following you as you juggle a bag of groceries in one hand and your keys in the other. 

“Looks like you guys got it all sorted,” you greet with a smile, though your gaze lingers on Bucky, who stands tense and guarded.

“Almost there,” Steve replies, straightening up and dusting off his hands. “We’ve reinforced the frame and added some extra measures to make sure it’s not so easy to break next time.”

Elizabeth bounds over to the couch, her backpack slipping off her shoulders. “Next time?” she echoes, her tone half-serious and half-curious.

“There won’t be a next time,” Bucky mutters, his eyes flicking to the guest room and then back to her. His voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it that makes Elizabeth glance at him curiously before pulling out her homework.

“You picked her up?” Sam asks, returning from the hallway with his phone in hand. He glances at you and then back at Elizabeth.

“Figured it was the easiest and the least I could do while you all handled this,” you reply, setting the groceries on the counter. “Besides, it gave me a chance to get her opinion on snack choices. She’s got some strong feelings about granola bars, by the way.”

Elizabeth looks up with a grin. “Because chocolate chip is way better than raisin.”

Sam chuckles. “Kid’s got good taste.”

As the light banter fills the room, Bucky shifts, his arms crossing over his chest again. He watches the easy interaction, his tension visibly easing just a fraction. You notice and meet his gaze, offering him a small smile before pulling a loaf of bread from the bag.

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner, by the way,” you offer, glancing at the three of them. “It’s the least I can do to say thanks.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Depends. What’s on the menu?”

“Spaghetti,” you answer. “And if Elizabeth has her way, garlic bread too.”

Elizabeth perks up. “You have to make the garlic bread. It’s the best part!”

Steve grins, stepping closer to the counter. “Sounds like a solid meal. Count me in.”

Sam nods in agreement. “Same here. I’m not missing garlic bread.”

You glance at Bucky, who hesitates. For a moment, it seems like he might turn the offer down, but then Elizabeth pipes up, “You’ll stay too, right, Uncle Bucky?”

Her wide-eyed look cuts through his reluctance, and with a faint smile, he nods. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

As you move around the kitchen, the atmosphere gradually softens. Steve and Sam take turns helping Elizabeth with her homework while Bucky keeps his position near the guest room, though he doesn’t seem as tightly wound as before.

“You know,” you say after a while, breaking the comfortable silence, “it’s nice having a full house like this. A little chaotic, maybe, but nice.”

Sam smirks. “Chaos is kind of our specialty.”

Steve chuckles. “True enough.”

Bucky, still standing by the closed door, finally turns away from it and looks at you. “You don’t mind us sticking around?”

You meet his gaze, your expression warm. “Not at all. Feels safer, honestly. And besides,” you add with a small grin, “I figure if anyone tries something again, they’ll regret it pretty fast with you three here.”

That earns a low chuckle from Bucky, and for the first time all day, there’s a flicker of something lighter in his expression. “You’re not wrong.”

Elizabeth glances up from her homework and adds, “Uncle Bucky’s the best at keeping people safe.”

The quiet pride in her voice makes him pause, his lips twitching into a faint but genuine smile. “Thanks, Bee.”

Dinner is filled with easy conversation and the kind of camaraderie that feels natural, even in the wake of the unease from before. By the time the dishes are cleared and the table wiped down, the apartment feels less like a crime scene and more like a home again.

As the evening winds down, Bucky finds himself lingering by the door while the others gather their things. He turns to you, his gaze steady. “Thanks—for dinner and picking up Elizabeth.”

You nod, your smile soft. “Anytime. You know that.” You lean in and kiss his cheek. 

“Please call me if anything feels off. Don’t hesitate.” Bucky pulls you into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to your head. 

“I promise. Thank you for everything.” 

Later that night, Bucky is consumed by the quietness of his apartment, save for the soft hum of the heater battling the December chill. Bucky sits on the edge of the couch, staring at the empty tea mug in his hands. Dinner had been… nice. Uncomfortably nice. He can’t remember the last time he’d felt so at ease—laughing at one of Sam’s terrible jokes, watching Elizabeth light up over dessert, hearing your voice cut through the heaviness in his chest like it belonged there.

It should’ve been good. Great, even. But instead, it left him unsettled. Warmth wasn’t something he was used to, not in a long time but now it wrapped around him like a second skin, soft but unfamiliar.

Alpine pads up onto the couch, curling into his lap. Bucky absently runs his fingers over her fur, his metal hand resting stiffly at his side. It’s not that he doesn’t trust it—it’s that he doesn’t trust himself. Not with this. Not with people he cares about.

His gaze shifts to the hallway, where Elizabeth is staying for the night after she pleaded with her dad, his room door slightly ajar. 

Pushing himself to his feet, Bucky crosses the room and gently nudges the bedroom door open. Elizabeth stirs at the sound, her small frame wrapped in a blanket as her stuffed bear rests on the pillow beside her.

“Uncle Bucky?” Her sleepy voice pulls him closer.

“Yeah, Bee, just me,” he says softly, crouching down to her level. “Wanted to check in before you head off to dreamland.”

Her brows knit together, her drowsy eyes searching his. “You look sad.”

Bucky lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m not sad. Just thinking too much. Go back to sleep, alright?”

“You’ll keep us safe?” she murmurs, already halfway back to sleep.

His throat tightens at the trust in her voice. “Always,” he promises, pressing a kiss to her head and smoothing the blanket over her shoulders. “Nothing’s getting past me.”

Once she’s asleep again, Bucky quietly shuts the door and leans against the wall, dragging a hand through his hair. He could handle threats, danger, even his own ghosts—but this? The trust and love of people like Elizabeth and you? That’s what made him feel like he was walking on thin ice.

Back on the couch, the quiet feels heavier now. The mug is now cold, its contents long forgotten. He sets it on the table and leans back, Alpine shifting against his lap. His mind circles back to the warmth of the evening—Elizabeth’s laughter, your voice, the way you looked at him and how you reminded him that you're all in this together.

But you... you make it seem effortless. You see through his walls without tearing them down, slipping past his defenses like sunlight through cracks.

Together. That word clings to him, even now. It feels foreign, like a language he’s trying to relearn after decades of silence. But it also feels... dangerous. Trusting someone meant opening up, and opening up meant exposing the parts of himself he’d rather leave buried.

He glances at the leather-bound journal on the coffee table. A quiet ritual, one of the only ways he can sort through the noise in his head.

With a sigh, he picks it up and flips to a blank page. The pen feels heavy in his hand as he stares at the empty space, searching for the words he hasn’t said aloud.

It scares me.

I don’t know how to do this.

Dinner tonight felt like stepping into a memory I don’t deserve to have. Warmth, laughter, people who care—things I stopped letting myself believe in. But then there’s Elizabeth, trusting me to keep her safe. There’s Y/N, looking at me like I’m not just the sum of everything I’ve done.

Not the kind of fear I’m used to—the kind that keeps you alive in a fight. This is different. It’s... quieter. More patient. It whispers things I can’t ignore: What if you mess this up? What if you hurt them? What if they find out who you really are and walk away?

I can’t stop thinking about Y/N. How her voice cuts through the static in my head. How Y/N smiled at me tonight like I wasn’t broken.

I don’t know what to do with this feeling.

Bucky stares at the page for a long time before closing the journal. The words sit heavy in his chest, like a truth he’s only just starting to admit to himself.

As Alpine stretches and curls tighter against him, Bucky lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Tomorrow, the world would demand answers, plans, and action. But tonight, he allows himself this: the quiet hum of the heater, the softness of a cat’s fur, and the hope—no matter how fragile—that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t have to do it all alone.

The next morning, Steve and Sam spread out across the living room, papers and laptop screens cluttering the coffee table. The remnants of breakfast—Elizabeth's half-finished cereal bowl sat off to the side, a stark contrast to the tension in the room. Bucky stood near the window, his arms crossed as his gaze flicked between the street below and the scattered information.

“This symbol,” Steve said, tapping a grainy photo on his screen. “It showed up on the corner of the broken window frame. It’s faint, almost like it was etched there on purpose.”

Sam squinted, leaning closer. “That’s not random graffiti. Looks like an old Hydra mark.”

Bucky stiffened at the mention, his fingers curling into fists. “That’s not just any Hydra symbol,” he said, his voice low. “That’s from the division that… experimented on me.”

The room fell into a tense silence. Steve exchanged a glance with Sam before speaking. “You think this is tied to someone specific from back then?”

Bucky nodded, his jaw tight. “There were scientists, mercenaries… a lot of people involved. But there’s one name that stands out.” He hesitated, the weight of the memory pressing against him. “Jakob Neumann. He oversaw the project that gave me this.” He held up his metal arm, the morning light glinting off its surface.

Sam frowned, pulling out his phone. “That name rings a bell. Give me a sec.” He typed quickly, his brow furrowing as he scanned through a database. “Neumann’s been off the grid for years, but…” His eyes lit up with realization. “A guy matching his description popped up in a report from Romania six months ago. It wasn’t confirmed, but there were whispers about him working on black-market enhancements.”

Steve frowned, straightening. “If he’s resurfacing, it could explain why they’re coming after you now. Maybe they’re trying to tie up loose ends—or restart their work.”

Bucky’s grip on the windowsill tightened. “If Neumann’s behind this, he won’t stop at me. He’ll go after anyone connected to me.”

Steve stepped closer, his tone resolute. “Then we take the fight to him before he gets the chance.”

Sam glanced between the two of them. “We need more intel first. Charging in without a plan isn’t gonna help anyone—especially with Elizabeth and Y/N caught in the crossfire.”

Bucky turned sharply at the mention of your name, his eyes narrowing. “Y/N shouldn’t be involved in this. I won’t let her get hurt because of me.”

Sam raised a hand in surrender. “We’re all on the same page, man. That’s why we’ve gotta be smart about this.”

Steve nodded. “Sam’s right. Let’s track down where Neumann was last seen and see if we can get a trail on him. And Bucky…” Steve’s voice softened. “We’ll handle this together. You’re not doing this alone.”

Bucky looked between them, his chest tightening with conflicting emotions—gratitude, frustration, and the ever-present fear that his past would destroy what little good had found its way into his life. “Fine. But we don’t wait too long. Every second he’s out there is another second he’s a threat.”

By midday, the living room had transformed into a makeshift war room. Steve had set up a detailed map on the coffee table, pinpoints and notes marking places where Neumann or his associates were rumored to have been seen. Sam worked the comms, reaching out to his contacts for any new leads, while Bucky stood off to the side, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

“Okay,” Sam said, straightening from the couch. “Here’s what we’ve got so far. Last confirmed sighting was in Bucharest, but there’s chatter about someone matching Neumann’s description heading east. Budapest, maybe.” He jabbed a finger at the map. “There’s also been talk of some underground tech trades—enhancements, biometrics. Sounds like his kind of game.”

Steve nodded, his gaze serious. “If he’s moving, he’s staying one step ahead. We need to figure out where he’s going next. Budapest could be a stop, or it could be a dead end.”

“We won’t know until we get boots on the ground,” Bucky interjected, his voice steady but tense.

Sam leaned back against the armrest, arms crossed. “And how do you suggest we do that? Can’t exactly hop on a plane and start asking questions without drawing attention.”

Steve’s brows furrowed. “Sam’s right. We need to be subtle. If Neumann’s involved in black-market tech, he’s probably dealing with the same players he’s worked with before. We could start there.”

“Which means infiltration,” Sam added. “We need someone who can blend in, look like they belong in that world.”

Steve glanced at Bucky, who raised an eyebrow. “You saying I look like I belong in a criminal underworld?”

Sam smirked. “If the arm fits.”

Despite the tension, a faint chuckle escaped Steve. “Sam’s got a point. You’ve been off the grid before. You know how to move in those circles.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. He hated the idea of diving back into a world that felt too close to the one he’d fought so hard to escape. But he also knew he couldn’t let anyone else take that risk. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“You won’t go alone,” Steve said firmly. “I’ll handle the logistics from here, and Sam will be your backup. We’ll make sure you’ve got everything you need before you head out.”

Sam gave a mock salute. “Guess I’d better pack my ‘blending in’ jacket.”

Bucky managed a faint smirk but said nothing, his mind already racing ahead to what he’d have to do. The thought of you and Elizabeth flashed unbidden in his mind, a reminder of what was at stake.

The evening sun dips low, casting golden light across the quiet street as Bucky approaches your apartment. He hears faint laughter through your front door, Elizabeth’s voice blending with yours, and for a moment, the sound eases the tension knotting his chest.

He knocks lightly, his metal arm making a softer tap than he intended. The door opens almost immediately, and there you were, a warm smile lighting up your face.

“Hey, Bucky,” you greet, stepping aside to let him in. “Perfect timing. Elizabeth just finished her homework, and we were about to start a game of Uno.”

Elizabeth pops her head around the corner, a grin spreading across her face. “Uncle Bucky! You have to play too. Y/N's not very good at bluffing.”

You laugh, mock-offended. “Hey, I’m plenty good at bluffing! I just happen to be honest when I play with you.”

Bucky chuckles softly, stepping into the cozy space. “You’re teaching her how to bluff? Pretty sure Steve wouldn’t approve.”

Elizabeth giggles and runs to grab the deck of cards. “He doesn’t have to know.”

You gesture toward the kitchen. “Want some tea before you take her home? I just put the kettle on and I have that Chamomile kind you like.” 

Bucky blushes slightly from the thought of you purchasing his favorite tea for when he comes over. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you move to the kitchen while Elizabeth sets up the game in the living room. You hand Bucky a mug, your gaze lingering on him as he takes a sip.

“Long day?” you ask gently.

Bucky nods, his eyes fixed on the liquid in his mug. “Yeah. We’re… dealing with the intruder situation. Complicated.”

“Something dangerous?”

He looks up, your concern evident. For a second, he considers brushing it off, giving you the usual noncommittal response. But something in your steady gaze tells him you wouldn’t buy it—and maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want to lie to you.

“Could be,” he admits quietly. “It’s connected to my past. And to people who might still want to use me—or worse.”

You set your mug down and cross your arms, leaning against the counter. “And you’re worried they’ll come after you. Or Elizabeth.”

“And you.”

Your breath catches for a moment, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. His blue eyes meet yours, searching, hesitant, yet brimming with an intensity that makes your heart race.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Bucky,” you say softly, stepping closer. “I’m tougher than I look. But you don’t have to carry all of this alone, you know.”

He exhales sharply, his shoulders tensing as though resisting your words. “I’m not good at letting people in,” he admits. “But the thought of something happening to you, to Elizabeth—it’s not something I can handle.”

Your hand instinctively reaches out, brushing against his metal arm. The coolness of the vibranium contrasts with the warmth of the moment. “You don’t have to handle it all alone. You’ve got Steve, Sam… and me. We’ve got your back, Bucky.”

He meets your gaze, his eyes holding an unspoken intensity, and without thinking, you lean in. You kiss him then, slow but sure, your lips finding his with a sense of quiet confidence. The moment feels natural, like something that was always meant to happen, and it’s as though the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this brief, private space.

The kiss deepens, and his hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, the tension between you dissipating as you both lean into the intimacy of it. When you pull away, you don’t step back immediately. Instead, you stay close, your foreheads gently resting against each other as you both catch your breath.

“Y/N…” he breathes your name softly, the weight of it carrying more meaning than any words could convey.

Before you can respond, Elizabeth’s cheerful voice rings out from the living room.

“Uncle Bucky! Are you coming? I already shuffled!”

You both laugh quietly, the moment fading, but the connection still crackling between you. Bucky takes a step back, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess I’d better go lose at Uno.”

You smile, feeling your heart still race. “For the record, I’m definitely going to beat you both.”

As you both move toward the living room, you glance at him once more. The warmth in his gaze matches yours, despite the chaos happening in your lives. 

The next Friday afternoon, the school is bustling with the usual end-of-week energy. Kids laugh and gather their things for the weekend as you finish up your last tasks in the classroom when you notice something out of place—an envelope wedged between the pages of a textbook on the corner of your desk. It’s a simple, unmarked envelope, but there is something about it that makes your skin start to prickle.

You hesitate, heart racing, and open it. Inside was a folded piece of paper, handwritten in a neat but unsettling script.

"We’re watching. It’s only a matter of time."

Your blood runs cold as you read the words again. The handwriting is unfamiliar, but the implication is clear. Your stomach twists in dread. You stuff the envelope into your bag, trying to shake the sense of unease that grips you. Elizabeth is already waiting by the door, backpack slung over her shoulder and a wide grin on her face.

“Ready to go, Y/N?” she asks, her voice full of enthusiasm.

You force a smile, nodding as you grab your things and follow her out into the hallway. The bustling school seems far too normal for what you're feeling inside. The tension from the note stays with you, coiling in your stomach. You glance over your shoulder one last time as you exit the building, scanning the hallway as though you might spot something or someone.

Elizabeth’s chatter helps distract you as you make your way to the parking lot. As you reach the front gates, you spot Bucky’s familiar truck idling by the curb. He leans against it, arms crossed, his eyes scanning the crowd with a kind of practiced vigilance. When he sees you, his expression softens, and he straightens up, pushing off the truck with a slight grin.

“Hey, you two,” he says, his deep voice grounding you for a moment, calming the nerves that have been rattling around inside you. “How’s the day been?”

Elizabeth jumps up and down, eager to give her answer. “It was awesome! I got 100% on my math test!”

You smile at her excitement but can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. There’s something in his gaze, something concerned, but you can’t quite place it.

“I’m proud of you,” Bucky says, giving her a playful ruffle of her hair as she beams up at him. Then, his attention shifts back to you. “How about you?”

You hesitate for a moment, the unease creeping back. You can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. You glance at Elizabeth, then turn your gaze to Bucky, knowing there’s no way to keep this from him any longer.

Bucky senses your hesitation. “Hop on in Bee. You can watch the iPad on the way home.” He helps Elizabeth buckle in, shutting the door and stepping back up on the sidewalk near you. 

“I found something today,” you say, your voice quieter than usual. “In my classroom. A note.”

Bucky’s brow furrows slightly, his posture shifting, the relaxed demeanor slipping away as he gives you his full attention. “A note?”

You nod, your hands subconsciously clutching your bag tighter. “Yeah. It was in one of the textbooks on my desk. No return address, no name. Just these words.”

You pull the envelope from your bag, handing it to him. Bucky doesn’t need to read it aloud; the message is clear as he scans it quickly, his face hardening with each passing second.

His jaw clenches, his free hand flexing as if he's holding something back. “This is...”

“Not a coincidence,” you finish for him, your voice barely above a whisper. “It feels like whoever’s behind all of this is getting closer. I don’t know what they want, but it doesn’t feel safe.”

Bucky steps closer to you, his presence both comforting and protective, his expression now fierce. “This changes things. We need to keep you and Elizabeth safe. I’ll talk to Steve and Sam. We’ll make more headway on who is behind this immediately.”

You nod, the weight of his words sinking in. For the first time, the realization hits that you aren’t just dealing with some random threat. This is bigger, and it’s personal.

Bucky glances over his shoulder toward the truck, then back at you, his eyes softening as he steps even closer, closing the space between you. His voice drops low, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I don’t like this, Y/N,” he says, his hand brushing against yours. “But I’ll make sure we figure this out. Whatever it takes.”

You nod again, but the unease lingers in your chest, the weight of his words sinking deeper into you. It's not just the threat, but the quiet protection he offers, the way his presence feels like a shield around you.

Elizabeth’s voice cuts through the moment, cheerful as ever. “When are we gonna get to eat? I’m starving!”

“We’ll figure something out, Bee.” Bucky chuckles softly, shaking his head. “She’s got a point. I think we all need some downtime this weekend.”

His eyes flicker to the sky, then back to you, his expression softening again. “Listen, I’m gonna drop Elizabeth off at home and promise to make up our usual Saturday mornings to her later, then I was thinking…” He pauses, his tone turning a little more uncertain, as if he’s considering the best way to ask. “Maybe you want to come by my place afterward? I’ll make dinner. We can just… hang out. Take a break from all this.”

You glance at him, surprised but grateful for the offer. You’re tired, emotionally drained from the constant worry of the past few days. The idea of a quiet night, just the two of you, feels like the perfect way to reset.

You meet his gaze, and there's a soft warmth in his eyes as he waits for your answer.

Bucky nods, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, reassuring smile. “Alright, I’ll take care of everything. You don’t need to worry about a thing. Just relax.”

“I’d like that,” you say softly, your voice filled with relief. "I think I could use some quiet time."

You feel a wave of gratitude wash over you, the stress from the day slowly starting to lift. With Bucky here, you know things will feel safer, even if just for tonight.

“I’ll see you later, then,” you say, taking a step back toward the truck as he moves to climb into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. “Be safe driving and if anything suspicious happens again, please call me.” 

“Promise.” You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, before stepping back and waving to Elizabeth. 

As he pulls away with Elizabeth’s excited chatter filling the truck, you watch them go, feeling a sense of calm you haven’t had in days. It’s a small, but welcome, piece of normalcy.

The tension from the day slowly begins to ebb away as you settle into Bucky’s cozy apartment, the warmth from the stove, and his presence feels like the perfect safe space, and for the first time in a while, you don’t feel the need to constantly look over your shoulder.

You curl your legs beneath you, making yourself comfortable, and watch him move around the kitchen. He looks so at ease, and yet, you can tell there’s something lingering just beneath the surface.

“Need help with anything?” you ask, breaking the silence.

Bucky glances over his shoulder, giving you a small smile. “Nah, I’ve got it. You just relax.” He focuses on the pan for a moment, the quiet thrum of his concentration giving way to a slight sigh. He turns back to you after a beat. “How’s the job going this year? How’s the school year treating you?”

“It's going okay. The kids are great, but it's been a lot. It always is at the beginning of the year and with Christmas break coming up. I love it, though. I just... sometimes feel like I'm running on fumes.”

Bucky’s expression softens, and he walks over to the couch, sitting beside you. “Yeah… I get that. It’s like you’re trying to be strong for the people who need you, but sometimes… you just want to let go.”

You nod, feeling the weight of the words. He looks at you, his gaze soft but intense, and you sense that he’s not just talking about you, but about himself too.

“I get it,” you say quietly. “You don’t have to pretend, you know? You don’t have to always be the strong one.”

Bucky lets out a breath, leaning back into the couch, eyes searching the ceiling as if he’s looking for the right words. His hand rests on his knee, his metal fingers lightly tapping a rhythm against his skin.

“I haven’t always had that kind of space,” he starts, his voice steady but tinged with something raw. “Growing up, my family was... tight-knit. My mom, my sister... my dad was always working, but we were close. And then after the war, everything changed.” He pauses, as if that thought alone takes a toll. “I kind of shut them out. After everything that happened…I lost my mom and didn’t go to her funeral. My dad told me off and told me to never go back after that. I regret it everyday, for not showing up. For never saying goodbye.”

You look at him, your heart aching for him in a way you hadn’t expected. The same loss you both shared, though in different forms.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” you say softly, your voice gentle, understanding. “I can’t imagine losing so much... like that. I used to go back home to see my dad, but after my sister and nephews... it’s just not the same anymore. I don’t really have anyone anymore. I used to think family meant blood, but I guess I’m learning that it’s more about who’s there for you, right?”

Bucky looks at you then, his blue eyes steady, as if weighing your words. He nods slowly, understanding. “Yeah. I guess that’s true. Steve, Sam, and Elizabeth—they’re my family now. They’ve been my rock. And, well, now you, too.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, full of meaning. You feel the quiet sincerity in them, and you realize that, in some small way, you’ve become part of that family too.

A smile tugs at your lips. “I like that,” you whisper, your gaze holding his. “I like being part of your family.”

Bucky’s expression softens, and he turns toward you fully, his knee brushing against yours. He hesitates for a second, his hand flexing, as if uncertain about something. Then, in a quiet voice, he adds, “You’ve got a place here. For as long as you want it. This—this family? It’s yours too.”

You feel your heart swell, warmth blooming inside you at his words. Something inside you loosens, and you let out a slow breath. The connection between you two feels stronger now, like a thread that’s been woven between you and tied with care.

You reach out, your hand brushing his, and he looks at you with a mixture of surprise and something else—something deeper. His eyes flicker to your hand, and then to your face, before he gently takes your hand in his, his fingers warm against your skin.

Bucky lets out a breath, his voice quieter now. “I know we’ve... crossed some lines already, but I want to make sure you’re comfortable. I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for.”

You smile softly at him, your thumb gently brushing over his hand. “Bucky, you’re not pushing me into anything. I trust you.”

He looks down at your joined hands, his metal fingers slightly trembling as he touches you, unsure of how to navigate the unfamiliar territory. But then you gently place your other hand on his, your fingers running over the cool metal of his arm. It’s a gesture of reassurance, and you meet his eyes, your gaze unwavering.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “I don’t mind. I want you to touch me, Bucky. In any way that feels right.”

Bucky’s breath hitches, his chest tightening as he gazes at you with something like longing in his eyes. Slowly, carefully, he leans toward you, his face inches from yours. And without another word, he kisses you.

It’s soft at first—gentle, as if testing the waters. But then you pull him closer, your hands moving to his chest as you deepen the kiss. He doesn’t pull away, and for a moment, everything else fades. The world outside doesn’t matter. It’s just you and him, connected in a way that feels like home.

Bucky’s hand, still unsure, finds its way to your cheek, the warmth of his touch mingling with the coolness of the metal on his other hand. And you welcome it, the mixture of both parts of him, feeling the whole of him in that moment.

When the kiss breaks, both of you are breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you try to regain composure. But neither of you says anything. Words aren’t needed right now. It’s enough to just be with each other.

And when Bucky whispers, “I’m glad you’re here,” you know he means more than just tonight.

“I think I’ve been waiting for something like this for a long time.”

Bucky’s eyes soften, and for a moment, it’s as if time slows down. He studies your face, his own expression serious but tender, as though he’s looking for something in you. Then, without another word, he pulls you closer, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he kisses you again.

This time, it’s different. Slower. Deeper. There’s a weight to it, a shared understanding that goes beyond physical connection. His lips press against yours with a quiet intensity, and you feel the storm of emotions between you two—the hurt, the healing, the desire for something more.

You let your hands move to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. His metal arm rests on the couch again beside you, the cold steel a reminder of his past, but you’re not afraid. You reach out, tentatively at first, your fingers brushing over it before gently cupping his arm. You sense the hesitation in him, the uncertainty about how much he can give of himself without losing control.

But you smile, meeting his gaze. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “I want you. All of you.”

He leans down to kiss you again, taking his time. His lips are soft, but there’s an undeniable hunger in his touch, a yearning for something you both haven’t fully acknowledged until now. His metal arm comes around you, drawing you closer, and you don’t flinch. Instead, you press yourself against him, feeling the weight of his arm, the coolness of it grounding you as much as the warmth of his other hand that cradles your face.

There’s no rush, no urgency between you two, just the slow, deliberate connection of bodies and hearts. He takes his time, kissing you deeper, exploring every inch of you as if he’s memorizing the feel of you. You reciprocate, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him even closer as if you’re afraid this might all disappear if you don’t.

But then, suddenly, a sharp, panicked sound from the kitchen breaks the moment.

“Shit! The dinner!” Bucky mutters, pulling away abruptly. His face shifts from passion to surprise as he stands up quickly, his hand fumbling for his shirt as he rushes toward the kitchen.

You can’t help but laugh, a soft giggle escaping your lips. The seriousness of the moment vanishes in an instant, replaced by a sense of playful chaos.

Bucky hurries into the kitchen, his movements a blur as he scrambles to turn the stove off, muttering curses under his breath. You get up, following him into the kitchen, still smiling at the way he’s trying to salvage the meal.

“You might want to check the potatoes,” you tease, leaning against the doorframe, crossing your arms.

Bucky glances at you over his shoulder, his face slightly flushed from the rush. “I swear, I was so sure I had everything under control,” he says with a sheepish grin. “But then… well, you know.”

You smile, watching him move around, trying to salvage the dinner with a slight laugh in his voice. The lightheartedness between you both feels so natural, so freeing, and you feel more at ease than you have in a long time.

Bucky finally turns back to you, his hands still wiping off the remnants of whatever went wrong in the kitchen. His gaze softens as he looks at you, a slight chuckle escaping his lips as he walks back toward you.

“Guess we’ll have to make do with takeout,” he says, his voice light. "Any preferences?"

You shake your head, still feeling pleasantly warm from your earlier kisses. "Surprise me."

Bucky nods and pulls out his phone to place an order. As he talks, you let your gaze wander over him - the strong line of his jaw, the way his hair falls across his forehead, the subtle shift of his shoulders as he moves. When he catches you looking, his eyes darken.

He sets the phone down and moves closer, his steps measured and deliberate. 

Bucky's eyes lock onto yours as he approaches, his gaze intense and full of longing. The air between you feels charged, crackling with electricity. Without a word, he reaches for you, his hands gently cupping your face as he draws you in for another kiss. 

This time, there's no hesitation. His lips move against yours with heated urgency, and you respond in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. A soft moan escapes you as his tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. You part your lips eagerly, deepening the kiss as your bodies press together.

Bucky's hands roam down your sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. When they reach your hips, he grips you firmly and lifts you up. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. 

Bucky gently lowers you onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. There's an intensity in his gaze that makes your breath catch. He hovers over you, his weight supported on his forearms as he looks down at you with a mix of desire and tenderness.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks softly, his voice rough with want. 

You nod, reaching up to cup his face. "I've never been more sure of anything."

That's all the permission he needs. Bucky captures your lips in a searing kiss, pouring everything he feels for you into it. His hands roam over your body, exploring every inch of you, discarding your clothes in the wake. 

You arch into his touch, your body aching for more. Your nipples harden under his fingers, and you gasp as he pinches them gently. Bucky's mouth leaves yours, trailing kisses down your neck and chest. He pauses at your breasts, lavishing attention on each nipple in turn.

You moan, your back arching off the bed as he sucks and nips at your sensitive flesh. Bucky's hand slides down your body, tracing a path towards your core. When he reaches your panties, he hooks his fingers under the waistband and pulls them down, leaving you bare for him.

His eyes widen as he takes in the sight of you, his gaze lingering on your slick folds. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he breathes, his voice husky with desire.

Then, without another word, he's back to kissing you, his fingers mapping every inch of your skin as your hearts beat in time. There's no rush this time, only the quiet intensity of being together. His fingers slip between your legs to tease your clit, drawing out a moan from your throat.

When you can't wait any longer, you pull him down for another kiss. "Bucky, please..."

With a groan, he pushes back, his movements unhurried as he pulls off his own clothes. Your eyes drop to his cock, and he chuckles under his breath at the hungry look on your face. His hand wraps around the base of his shaft, stroking slowly as his eyes lock on yours.

"I don't want to rush through this. I want to feel you for the first time nice and slow." He pauses, his gaze flickering down your body. "Tell me you want that too."

Your mouth has gone dry, but you manage to croak out an assent. "Y-yes... yes, please."

Bucky nods, his teeth catching the corner of his mouth. Then he reaches to his nightstand for a condom and rolls it onto his shaft. You watch, mesmerized, as he slicks himself with lube.

The anticipation is driving you crazy, your body so sensitive with want. When Bucky finally slides a finger inside you, your toes curl and your hips jerk up off the bed.

"Oh god, oh god..."

He chuckles, his thumb teasing your clit. "Not yet. Just hold on and feel me."

You do as he asks, letting his touch wash over you as he works you open. Your nails dig into your palms as you wait, your heart hammering in your ears. He takes his time, his finger crooking inside you to hit the exact spot that makes you whine.

"Okay," he says, pulling his fingers out with a satisfied smirk. "Ready?"

You nod and he shifts forward, his cock nudging at your entrance. You open your legs wider, wanting him to fill you completely. Slowly, inch by inch, he slides inside you until he's fully seated.

Bucky buries his face in your neck, his breathing ragged. "Fuck," he pants. "You feel even better than I imagined."

You wrap your legs around him, your pussy clenching around his shaft. "Please move."

He groans, his hips pulling back slowly before he pushes forward again. "Okay, baby, okay..."

The friction inside you is exquisite. Every stroke hits your g-spot perfectly, making you shake and whine with pleasure. His cock hits deeper and deeper with each thrust, the sounds of your wetness echoing through his bedroom as he fills you.

As he fucks you, Bucky's kisses fall over your skin like rain. Your lips, your neck, the shell of your ear. His teeth nip at your collarbone, eliciting a startled cry from your throat. He smiles against your skin, his rhythm never faltering.

It feels like hours and only seconds at the same time, your bodies moving in perfect sync. When his teeth bite down on the flesh between your neck and shoulder, a sudden jolt of pleasure makes you see stars. Your body goes taut, your nails digging into Bucky's shoulders as you scream his name.

The sensation of you clenching down on his cock is all it takes for him to join you over the edge. Bucky gasps, his hips stuttering before he comes hard inside you. He moans, the sound vibrating against your skin.

You stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other's arms as you come back down from the high. 

After a few quiet moments, Bucky pulls you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to the bathroom. His touch is steady, almost reverent, as he sets you down gently. The sound of the shower fills the space as he turns it on, pulling you under the warm spray with him. His fingers brush against your skin, caressing your face as if committing every detail to memory, his blue eyes reflecting the unspoken tenderness between you.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that feels endless, consuming. It’s not just desire—it’s longing, devotion, and the overwhelming need to keep this moment forever. The thought of being apart is unbearable. He presses you closer, his hands firm on your waist as he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and hoarse.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

His words send a shiver through you, and you meet his intense gaze, your heart swelling. You reach up, fingertips tracing the sharp line of his jaw before brushing soft kisses along his neck.

“Me either,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “I’m so happy to be here with you. To feel this. To have you.”

The way he looks at you leaves you breathless—like he’s seeing every part of your soul and holding it in his hands. His eyes carry a depth that makes you feel seen, cherished, and claimed all at once. And you realize you want nothing more than to lose yourself in him, to become inseparably intertwined.

Bucky’s grip on your hips tightens slightly as though anchoring himself to the present, to you. His heart is pounding, emotions surging through him in ways he’s never felt before. He wants to tell you everything, to give voice to the feelings consuming him, but fear knots in his chest. How do you put something so profound, so earth-shattering, into words?

Instead, he holds you closer, his silence speaking volumes. And in his arms, under the cascading water, you feel it all—the unspoken promises, the yearning, and the undeniable truth that what’s between you is something neither of you can ever let go.

Bucky grips your thighs, pushing you flush against the wall, sucking on your neck as you moan loudly. His cock rubbing against you clit torturously.  

"Fuck," Bucky moans against your lips. "Please, I need you again..."  

You smile, knowing exactly what he's getting at. You lick his bottom lip, your breaths coming in short pants.  

"Take me," you whisper against his lips.

Bucky growls and pushes inside you. You let out a high pitched moan, nails digging into his shoulders. The force of the thrust makes your thighs quiver. Bucky fucks you slowly in long thrusts. Each one sends waves of pleasure through your body. He reaches up and cups your breasts in his hands, squeezing them gently before pinching your nipples, making you arch your back and cry out his name. 

The sound of your wet bodies colliding echoes through the room. Your cries of pleasure are loud, and Bucky grins, loving that he's causing that. That he makes you feel like that. He leans in close to you, breathing in the scent of your neck before biting it gently, making you squeal again.

He increases the speed of his thrusts as you feel yourself getting close, head falling back against the wall. Bucky runs his tongue along your neck to your collarbone, making you shiver. 

"I'm close," you moan. "Oh god, I'm close..."

"Come for me," he whispers against your ear. "Come on my cock, baby." 

He picks up the pace, slamming into you now. You moan loudly, the only thing you can think is how good Bucky feels inside of you. He's hitting all the right spots, sending pleasure running through your veins. 

"Fuck, I'm going to cum..." Bucky pants against your neck. 

"Yes, oh god" You squeal as you feel him stiffen inside you, and that's all it takes to push you over the edge. You cry out in ecstasy, body shaking against him. You can feel Bucky doing the same, his cock pulsing inside you. He presses you lips together, swallowing your moans. You stay flushed against the shower wall for a few minutes, the warmth of the water washing over you.

“You okay?” Bucky asks as he helps you stand to your feet, wobbling slightly as you steady yourself. 

“Yeah,” Is all that you can speak, overwhelmed with your emotions at the moment. 

“Let me take care of you,” Bucky murmurs, his voice gentle as he reaches for the shampoo. His touch is tender, his fingers threading through your hair with such care it feels like a quiet promise. He keeps the soap from your eyes, leaning in to press soft kisses against your damp face. The warmth of his affection draws a soft giggle from you, the sound making his lips curl into a small, content smile.

When he rinses the shampoo out, his hands trail down to your body, lathering a soapy cloth with delicate precision. His touch is delicate, as if every inch of your skin deserves his undivided attention. The intimacy of it—the simplicity of being cared for—sends a warmth through you that has nothing to do with the water. You gently take the cloth from him, mirroring his actions with the same tenderness, pressing kisses along the muscles of his back as you go.

Once the water is turned off, Bucky grabs a towel and wraps it around your body, patting you dry with the kind of focus that makes your heart ache with gratitude. He pulls his robe from the hook, draping it over your shoulders and tying it snugly, ensuring you’re wrapped in his warmth. With a towel secured around his waist, he takes your hand and leads you back to his bedroom.

You settle on the edge of his bed, watching as he rummages through his drawers. The way his brow furrows slightly in concentration makes you smile, the quiet intimacy of the moment filling the room with a palpable sense of connection.

“These should work,” he says, finally pulling out a soft T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He hands them to you, his fingers brushing against yours, lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter.

“Thank you,” you whisper, the words heavy with meaning.

He pauses for a moment, his gaze meeting yours, and you swear you see the slightest hint of a blush creeping up his neck. But in his eyes, there’s something deeper—a quiet joy in caring for you, in sharing this space, this vulnerability. And as you slip into the clothes, the scent of him surrounding you, you know that being here with him feels like home.

Bucky watches as you slip into the T-shirt and sweatpants, his chest tightening at the sight of you dressed in his clothes. It’s such a small thing, yet it fills him with a warmth he can’t quite explain. He tosses the towel aside and pulls on a pair of boxers, then gestures toward the bed.

“Come on,” he says softly, his voice almost shy.

You crawl under the covers, the crisp sheets cool against your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat that spreads through you when Bucky slides in beside you. He turns off the bedside lamp, the soft glow of the moon through the window casting silver shadows across his features.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The quiet hum of the night settles around you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It feels safe. Right.

Bucky shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours, and you instinctively roll onto your side to face him. He does the same, propping his head on his hand as his steel-blue eyes search yours.

“You comfortable?” he asks, his voice a husky whisper.

You nod, smiling. “More than comfortable. This… this feels good.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into a soft smile, but it fades just as quickly. His gaze drops for a moment, then returns to yours, something unspoken hanging heavy in the air between you.

“I…” he starts, then stops, exhaling a sharp breath. “I’m not great at this—at saying what’s on my mind.”

You reach out, your hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “You don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready. I get it.”

He places his hand over yours, his calloused fingers warm and grounding. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… new. I’ve spent so much time keeping people at a distance, thinking it’s better that way. Safer. But with you…” His voice trails off, and he looks at you like you’re the only thing grounding him in this moment.

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his expression. You feel the same—a pull so strong it terrifies you. But you can’t bring yourself to say it either, not yet. Instead, you lean in, resting your forehead against his.

“With you, it feels different,” you whisper. “Like… I can finally breathe.”

Bucky closes his eyes, his jaw tightening as he fights the emotions threatening to spill over. His thumb traces slow circles over your hand. “I’m scared,” he admits quietly.

“Me too,” you confess.

The honesty lingers in the air between you, fragile but unbreakable. You both know there’s more to say—deeper truths waiting to be spoken—but for now, this is enough.

Bucky shifts closer, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his chest. You nestle against him, your bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. His lips brush the crown of your head, and you hear him whisper something so soft you almost miss it.

“Don’t let go,” he murmurs.

“I won’t,” you promise, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

And as sleep begins to claim you both, you realize that even though neither of you said the words, the feeling is there—strong, unyielding, and undeniable.

Thanks for reading! Please reblog & comment <3 would love to hear how you enjoy it and feel free to send in requests!

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Marriage AU needed its justice lol

-

Adam and Lucifer were sitting together in the living room while Nifty was cleaning the place with such passion, the Devil waited patiently for Adam’s answer to his offer. He knew he’d need time, obviously.

Adam: So let me get this straight. I, give my soul to you, and in return you’ll be giving me protection?

Lucifer: Yup, that’s it! And you’ll be under my care and service and all that.

That made the tiny maid interested. The ultimate bad boys, getting in a situationship? Ohohoho.

Nifty: Ooh, what do we have here?

She secretly went behind Adam’s chair and pretended to swipe there, she always wanted to know if these two had anything to do together.

Adam: Under your service? What’s that supposed to mean?

Lucifer: Means you’ll be under my command and control, obviously. A little payback.

Adam really, REALLY hated the idea but he supposed he didn’t have much of an other choice. Even though Lucifer’s face made him want to punch him.

Adam:.. Fine. What will I be signing?

Lucifer: I am working on it, don’t worry.

Adam: You better.

He got up and left leaving Lucifer sighing and doing as well. On his way he didn’t notice the short pink maid following him.

((I hope this is good for a start? Idk.))

((That's a great start!! Can this one take priority 🥺))

Lucifer went into his office at the hotel, he needed to put the finishing touches on Adams soul contract. He couldn't believe that he was going to get to own his soul.

Nifty watched as he wrote the contract and then left to go to bed. He had left the contract open to let the ink dry. She rushed over and looked at it and read it.

Well this needs adjustments! This works more in Lucifer's favor than Adam they need something more mutual.

Nifty grabbed a pen and got to work adding everything she wanted to the contract. There!

Nifty: Hehehe perfect.~

She hurried along to bed herself, she had worked on that contract for four hours.

The next day Lucifer rolled up the contract and walked out with it, he brought it to Adam and almost joyously handed him the pen.

Nifty watched from afar, she couldn't wait!

Adam sighed, better than being murdered all the time. That's what he had to tell himself. Hesitantly, he signed his name on the dotted line.

In a flash of gold light, three things appeared on Adams body, a golden soul chain that connected to, a golden pointy crown appeared on his head wrapping around his horns and a gold ring with a diamond on his ring finger.

Lucifer got a matching one.

Adam: Ummm, the fuck is this?

Nifty: YAY!! Congratulations!!

Adam and Lucifer jumped.

Lucifer: Huh? For what?

Nifty: For getting married.

Adam: WHAT!?!

[annasyfable]

In fiction things often times don’t align with real world morels or even make logical sense because it’s simply not real. ACOTAR is the only work of sjm that I’ve read so idk if she touches on topics such as these in other books in the universe. (Though I do know there is general misogyny and racism with the Illyrians)

for maja I think she was acting in Feyre’s best interest because it’s safe to say she wouldn’t want to do anything that would harm her own baby. She is high lady and is not obligated to obey these terms yet she does. Nyx was no accidental pregnancy, I think everyone knew that Feyre would do whatever it takes to bring him into their world breathing. it is because of this that I believe Rhys was so stressed. Of course he wants to keep the baby safe and protected but most of his worry is for his mate. Which is the reason he hid it from her in the first place, I’m not saying it’s right, but I think that’s why Sarah wrote it that way so we can see the inner struggle of Rhys. Telling her may make her act rash and stress her out, and therefore cause harm to herself and the baby. The shield was in case any of their enemies caught wind of the pregnancy, and tried to cause harm to Feyre because she was pregnant. And of course to progress Nesta’s storyline and character development, as she is the one who broke the news and in the worst way possible. She did it to be hurtful not because it was the right thing to do. my last point is about Maja muttering. To be a writer does not mean you know all the ins and outs of grammar. Still, the mutter could’ve been in disappointment. No one was aware of Nesta’s actions so to her it could’ve appeared like Feyre used magic like she was instructed not to. But as we know feyre had passed out at that point (I think). so it could’ve been a mutter of awe and shock, because form her point of view in the blink of an eye suddenly a passed out Feyre appears to have altered anatomy.

I personally do not think Sarah wrote for the characters involved to be racist, misogynistic, or to have ill intention. Though, if she did, I do not see the problem, it’s not a reflection of who she personally is. It just opens the doors for more development of the characters and the world they live in.  When we look into things too deeply, and treat the characters and situations as if they were real, it takes the fun out of fiction. 

Again, it’s fiction and things simply just don’t make sense, like how did the cauldrons magic not cause Nyx any harm when her body was literally altered in the process of the labor, probably the worst time to do it in my opinion. How is that any different then if she were to just do it herself temporarily. In my opinion, the only logical answer is the progression of Nesta’s plot and character development.

In the same argument in regards to not giving Feyre the option to make a choice for her own body can apply to what Nesta did. Correct me if I’m wrong, but does she not permanently change Feyre’s body plus her own and I’m not sure about Elaine.

Point is, somethings just don’t make sense, writers are not perfect and often times it’s not that deep.

Let’s also not forget that Rhy was it going to die if anything happened to Feyre, so what we really see is how his love blinded him from making the right decision to tell her and not misogyny (because forming the pact was an act of them all up in my opinion)

love Sam for bringing up the medical racism and misogyny of women's reproductive health. SJM should have handled it better

[valeovalairs]

My moms making me go ask for a job in person wish me luck

[braisedhoney]

some tragic love stories be like: if i could bottle the galaxy, i would pour it into a cup so it would be easier for you to drink. do you want them? do you want the stars? or do they suit you better as adornments for your eyes than glitter on your lips?

but they don’t want the stars. they don’t want the galaxy. but how can they not? is that not enough? (it’s too much, that’s the problem. it’s too much.)

[enjamin-the-benitor]

GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE I AM FEELING A LOT OF EMOTIONS AT A RAPID RATE

[lilgynt]

on the leftist commune of my creation you WILL need to have a job and mandatory alone time it cannot be 3 faggots with full time jobs paying for acquaintances random stuff and then being made to listen to said acquaintance vent after the fact

[micamicster]

Wildly apprehensive about the furiosa movie

[mars-ipan]

i do love my family very dearly but the internalized ableism the men in here struggle with is. so much

[lightlycareless]

And finally, here is the other xmas oneshot I had prepared for this year :> something a bit more chill, I believe. Or so I hope that's the way it's interpreted hahaha don't take it too seriously, it's just you, naoya and your kids being silly 🤣

warnings: none too big. domestic fluff. there is a hint of you and naoya being somewhat nasty (as usual) and naomi curses the moment she became aware of her surroundings.

Happy reading!

It took you years to finally convince Naoya to do it. For him to go above and beyond what’s usually done during Christmas time.

But after your swaying, insisting, and borderline exhausting persuasion, Naoya finally decides to bite and dress up as Santa this year.

“Our babies are going to love it!” you gush, already imagining the type of adorable reaction they’ll have. “Thank you so much, honey.”

“They’re hardly babies anymore, my love. I doubt they’ll get excited.” Naoya says. But he can portray himself as indifferent all he wants, because deep within you know the truth: he too was thrilled to see his kid’s reactions. “But isn’t this going to happen during the night, though? When they’re asleep?”

You go silent.

“I guess so… but we can still do it! I read online that what parents do to keep the excitement going is leave a trail of hints implying Santa was here! You know, like the cookies with milk and such.”

“Do I still have to dress up?” he asks, you nod.

“Of course! You gotta do it at least once in their lives.” You smile, stepping on your toes to kiss him. Call it motivation. A preview of what’s to come if he goes through with your idea. “I have your costume ready too, so you can’t back out now.”

“Looks like I don’t have much of a choice anyways…”

“No, you don’t.” you giggle. “Now, if you excuse me… There are some cookies I need to bake if we want to make this even more realistic!”

“Are you sure that isn’t an excuse just to eat them yourself?” He teases.

“And what if it is?” you pout.

“Ah, no, nothing. No problem at all…” Naoya chuckles, and you know there’s so much more that he’s holding back on saying, but in favor of getting everything ready for Christmas night, which was just two days away, you let it pass.

Thankfully, your children remain as oblivious as ever, in both matters regarding their presents which were hidden away in one of the many rooms found around the estate until the very day, and your plan for Santa’s nightly visit.

Though they’ve been getting ideas of their own.

“Naomi-nee, come on! Let’s stay up to see Santa coming to our house!” Naori cheers, excitedly tugging at her arm—an accurate reflection of his and his sibling’s enthusiasm. “Please please pleaseeeeeeeeeeee.”

“It’s going to ruin the magic, little bro.” Naomi responds, barely lifting her gaze from the book she was reading. She already knew who Santa was, discovered the truth all by herself once upon a time after noticing the peculiar similarities between Santa’s handwriting and her mama’s.

Did it hurt her to uncover this mystery? Not really. If anything, it just made her job easier when asking for things—though a part of her can’t help but wonder if the mysticism surrounding Santa Claus might’ve been real a long time ago…

Either way, just because she knew the truth doesn’t mean she’d be the one to ruin the fantasy to her younger siblings. They’ll simply have to find out that on their own, if they ever…

“You have to be asleep for Santa to deliver your toys, or you won’t get any.”

“That’s not true.” Naoko pouted. “He gives toys to all kids who are good kids!”

“You probably don’t even notice because mom tucks you to bed early, you know? Besides, even if she didn’t, none of you would be able to stay up late anyways.” Naomi snickers, enjoying how easily provoked her baby siblings are.

“I can!” Naoyuki retorts. “I can stay up late!”

“No, you can’t.” Naomi smirks. “You three will fall asleep the moment it turns 10.”

“Wanna bet?” Naoko frowns.

“Mama will want you to do so, anyways.” The oldest reminds. “Neither she or dad like it when you guys stay up too late.”

“But it’s just going to be one night.” Naori persists. “But we’ll still do it! Whether you join us or not!!”

Naomi ultimately ends up conceding, but not because she was thrilled to see a man dressed up as Santa in the middle of the night at her home, but rather, because she didn’t want any of them getting into trouble, or danger, while you and Naoya weren’t there to intervene. Or more like weren’t supposed to be there…

So, after everyone supposedly goes to bed, Naomi, Naori, Naoko, and Naoyuki stealthily sneak out of the bedroom chambers and head towards the living room, where the Christmas tree was extravagantly set up with all kinds of colorful lights and ornaments Naomi swears they get bigger and more dramatical with each passing year.

Because she was the oldest, Naomi oversaw the effectiveness of this operation, as they’d innocently call it. She had some initial doubts regarding their compliance, they’re eager kids after all—but she’d soon find out that when it comes to working for the same goal, they were nothing but obedient, yet small, cute little soldiers that took all her words to heart and diligently executing their orders!

Might come useful for another occasion, but for now, she’ll be the reliable older sister they need.

“Wait, quiet.” Naomi suddenly says, placing her arm before her eager siblings and stopping them on their tracks.

“What is it Naomi-nee??” Naoko breathes, peeking over her arm. Naori doing the same with her, Naoyuki following suit, so on and so forth.

“What do you see?” Other asks.

“I hear… something.” She frowns, leaning closer and getting a clearer… picture.

“—you’re not thinking of keeping it like that, are you?” it’s you, she immediately discerns. And the lone thought of being caught by her mother is enough to send chills through her spine. More so since it’s clear that you’re setting up the gifts for tomorrow, naturally, no one is supposed to be there.

Certainly not to hear what followed.

“What? You don’t like it?” the other voice teases, muffled enough so Naomi couldn’t figure out who it was, but clear enough to know it was a man. “I thought you did.”

“When have I ever liked beards?” you tease back with a giggle, a gesture that denotes familiarity, uncomfortably so. Naomi frowns. “But I’m sure it would feel nice.”

The curse of understanding innuendos—Naomi scowls. She’s only glad that her siblings were too innocent to understand any better.

“Ah, is that so?”

“Well, you know me—I’m always looking for ways to make things more… interesting.”

“What a naughty wife you are.” The other responds. “I wonder what you’ll husband think of this.”

«Husband?! That means—» Naomi frets, tossing aside her embarrassment and quickly growing disturbed at the implications.

“Oh, but you’re not going to tell him, are you? I can be a very good girl when I need to.”

“I can’t believe you—unless you convince me.”

“I think I know exactly what to do.”

There’s only one person she could imagine you’d share those godawful interactions with. However, given the unmatching description of the other man, and unfamiliar voice…

Naomi could only imagine the worst.

The most absolute dreadful thing she now needed to protect her siblings from before it was too late.

“Naomi-nee…! It’s Santa!” Naoyuki exclaims, happy to see that his theory was right and yet to understand what Naomi was sadly interpreting. He was just a kid, after all. An innocent kid who just had to get overtly excited… “See? I told you! I told you Santa would come tonight! And with our gifts too!”

But he wasn’t just there to leave behind some gifts, eat cookies, drink milk, and leave through the same way he came in.

In fact, everyone would come to see what he was truly there for once you cheekily wrapped your arms around Santa’s shoulders, pulling him very close to you, and finally—

Kissing him.

Making each and every one of your children gasp, shaken to see that their mother’s kisses were no longer exclusively theirs or their fathers, but also a strange man’s whom they couldn’t help but feel resentful of soon afterwards—jealous, even, enough so for the shyest of the bunch to take a stand and get this whole fiasco done with!

“Why are you kissing mama?!” Naori cries, and though you were the one to initiate, he still heads straight for Santa’s arm and harshly pulls at it, as if trying to get this terrible man away from their innocent mom and defend his parent’s happiness. “Hey, I’m talking to you!!”

“Leave mama alone!” Naoko followed, alongside Naoyuki and Naomi, the latter being there to prevent her siblings from causing any more havoc, while the former placed his little hands on your back, tightly holding onto your clothes as he and his twin try to get you to safety. “Get away from her!”

“Wait, kids—!” you gasp, swiftly clinging onto Santa the moment one of your babies tugged at you a bit too roughly—his hands wrapped around your waist soon after to prevent any more damage, which far from helping his cause, just caused their anger to grow even stronger. “Stop it! I’m going to fall!”

“You’re hurting your mom, Nao—” Santa exclaims, but Naori quickly shuts him up.

“Shut up, ugly old man!” he breathes back. “We already have a papa, so get lost!!”

You and Naoya would’ve found it unbearably amusing if their antics weren’t alarmingly approaching the concerning; it was only a matter of time before one of them got too agitated and hurt themselves, thus, necessary to act now.

But thankfully, Naomi would be the voice of reason the moment she takes a better look at Santa’s familiar eyes, quickly realizing who it was underneath the silly costume and stopping her siblings from antagonizing their poor father any longer, who was being punished by the simple crime of getting a kiss from his own dear wife.

“Let me go, nee-san! We have to protect mama!” Naori cries as soon as he’s peeled from your side. “I won’t let him be our papa! We can’t”

“Well, I got something to say regarding that.” Naomi begins, but before she could say anything else, you and Naoya stop her, shaking your head and letting her know that you’d much rather take the fall than destroy the magic of Christmas. As if this hadn’t so already… “I—I mean—”

“He was only kissing me because that was my Christmas present!” You quickly come to the rescue, directing all their scrutinizing attention onto you. You just hoped they’d believe you. “This year the only thing I wanted was a kiss from papa, but since he’s going to be away for a few days… I decided to ask Santa to give it to me! Really! Nothing more, nothing less!”

Such is what you wished them to believe, because your prior heated exchange easily implied otherwise.

However, even if they were unaware of your inappropriate words, they still wouldn’t take the bait—and not because they still harbored anger towards Santa, but rather…

“Papa isn’t going to be here…?” Naoko laments, causing you to immediately regret your choice of words.

“But… he promised.” Naoyuki adds. “He said we were going to play together!”

“N—no, that’s not it… what I meant to say is—” you stammer. “It’s actually—”

“Your papa is going to be away for just a few moments, but only because he’s helping me with the presents.” Santa Claus interjects. Their cute, round angry eyes quickly snap into his direction—their disappointment is strong as ever, but they still give him the right to defend himself. “You see, I must travel around the world delivering gifts to every single kid. It sounds like a big job, and it is. However, if I consider there’s a child that has been incredibly well-behaved this year, I go out of my way to reward them even more.

Unfortunately, I won’t be able to deliver the rest of your toys personally since I have a lot of work this time around, but thankfully, because your papa loves you all very much, he offered to help me! But he will still be there for you during Christmas, regardless of what happens.”

“Really? I don’t want another Christmas without papa…” Naori murmurs, Santa’s heart tightens a bit.

“I promise.”

Was it a bit too on the nose? A mouthful of an excuse that could easily be debunked upon further questioning?

Maybe. Yes.

But that didn’t seem to matter, in fact, everything stopped being relevant the moment Santa implied the existence of more gifts, as if the mountains of presents lined up around the Christmas tree weren’t enough, but most importantly, the presence of their beloved father after having gone through agonizing days of absence (all done with the intention of spending the holidays without the elders or HQ bothering him; yet they always manage somehow).

A prompt solution that gave way to another issue: now Naoya only had a few hours to get all the new gifts he promised before Christmas, though dealing with their disappointment was always an option…

To never consider.

Well, at least their kid’s innocence during the festivities was maintained, though their excitement regarding Santa dwindled a bit, growing skeptic whenever the enigmatic figure approached them and subsequently standing before you whenever he got too close—as if trying to protect you from being whisked away from them, ready to put their life on the line if need be!—or demanding their papa to do so as well, still yet to uncover who was the one underneath that itchy beard and uncomfortable red suit he immediately threw away after that night.

Their undying animosity towards the enigmatic man led to some awkward seasonal photoshoots too, alongside some unwanted meetings with other parents once their kids began an anti-Santa Claus propaganda at school... but you and Naoya knew it was only a matter of time before they outgrew their childish beliefs, and so, the two continued to enjoy their time together as a family.

Eventually looking back to these moments and remembering them as nothing but silly, and somewhat embarrassing to them, anecdotes when they finally know the truth—

Until Naohime came along, that is; surpassing all expectations in such way that no number of gifts or siblings would be able to help you out this time.

I think Naomi is technically around 18 at this point? So you can imagine how goofy all of this was lol either way, we can all see some of the traits they got from Naoya 🤣 their quickness to call Santa ugly and old, alongside their protectiveness over you 🥹❤️ they all love you, they really do. 🥺

Also, I love the fact that every one of your kids adores Naomi. She is the de facto cool older sister that is actually cool and not embarassing. I think. All siblings have that silly side to them, one way or the other...

As for Naohime... I guess we'll have to wait next year to see what happens with her 🥴 but I can give you a hint: it has to do with Naobito and his imprudent nature.

Anyways, thank you so much for reading this small piece of mind!! I had so much fun writing something inspired on that famous song we've all heard about by now 🤣 I just knew y/n wouldn't be able to go on another year without forcing Naoya into dressing up as Santa lol. It's tradition!!!!

Well, once again, thank you so much for your support; now take care and hope to see you soon!!!

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Masquerade

historical fiction set in 15th century West Africa

follows a young woman from Timbuktu, recently conquered by the the warrior king of Yorùbáland

her guild of blacksmiths were already shunned as witches, and their conditions worsen under Yorùbá rule - so when she’s kidnapped by the king to be his wife, she decides to accept that it’ll be a better life for her, as long as she can get her mother’s blessing

but as months go by without her mother being found, and political tensions rise, she must decide what she wants